


He Bared Those Teeth and She Tried to Run Away

by red_handedjill



Category: Into the Woods (2014), Into the Woods - Sondheim/Lapine
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Kinda?, mostly skipped over singing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-10
Updated: 2015-07-09
Packaged: 2018-03-22 04:39:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3715363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/red_handedjill/pseuds/red_handedjill
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Who's afraid of the big bad wolf? Not I, not I. — lrrh/jack</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. He Ate Her Up and She Cried Fresh Tears

**Author's Note:**

> I decided to elaborate on the metaphor for rape. And then this happened. And I think I apologize because I'm a horrible person and the wolf, of course, objectifies poor Little Red. Also, follows new headcanon (that formed from a beautifully dark fic on here, 'The Torture They Teach' by MmeBahorel) that the wolf was the elder brother of the princes before being cursed.

His eyes feasted upon her flesh first, plump and pink and smooth and soft. He could see that her cloak and dress did not hide breasts, what little he could see was what she bore. Yet, that had always been his preference, even when he had been nobility still.

She was small, almost delicate. There was an innocent mischief in her eyes, as if she knew the things children were not to but not what they meant. He took in the slightest of curves beneath the cloak, the freshness of her flesh, the movement of her limbs. His mouth watered.

He had always gotten what he wanted as a prince. That would not—could not change.

And he wanted the small weight of her form under his, to  _own_ her as he once owned whatever he wanted, to beat her, hurt her, break her, fuck her, kill her, eat her alive. He was determined to devour her.

"Good day, young lady," he greeted, a charming grin spreading across his lips.

"Good day, Mr. Wolf," she nodded back. The girl continued on her way. He almost snarled at the way she just walked on, like she was not  _his._

Still . . . She was especially lush as his eyes took in her backside. The hunger ignited. He would have her, he would have her, he would have her. Swiftly, with the elegance and grace of a prince but the speed and the intentions of the wolf he had been made, he rushed before her.

He twisted her around—she was as soft as she appeared—to show her the blooming flowers. He gestured to the sun. He almost wanted to yank her cape from her shoulders and gag her with it like he once would've. But then she was singing, refusing him, but her voice was clear and pretty. Gagging her would keep him from forcing her to sing for him.

Instead, he forced little birdies to sing for her as charmingly as he could muster. She pushed past him still, determined to reach her granny's. She was fiery, he almost liked it.  _Almost._

It made him all the more wanting to break her, break that spirit.

He called out for a moment with her, a moment in which he would pounce and pin her to ground and tear her dress off and have his way with the little girl.

"Look what you're ignoring," he pointed out, forcing her to a small thicket of flowers. Her eyes went wide, a doe-like innocence to them. He would rip that innocence away. He was so, so sure of it.

She went to her knees to the flowers. He was going to have her. No one would refuse him as she had before. He would devour the little girl.

Picking a stray flower from the bunch, he smiled widely at her. "For granny."

She believed him with the innocence of a child and that was her mistake.

* * *

Before he ate her as he had her grandmother,  he would ravish her as he wanted to in the woods (but he was smarter than that, two meals in a day was far, far better than just one).

She was tentative about him, sensing something was off. Her eyes had not lied, she did indeed know of things children did not.

But they had also told him she did not  _understand_ the things. He would make sure she did. And then his paw was slipping under the hem of her dress. She did not understand, she could not understand as her doe eyes went wide again and she tried to back away.

He did not let her.

His claws dragged against the sweet flesh of her leg. It was not enough to draw blood, beating her was for later. The regret, the fear, it was so clear in her eyes. He loved every fiber of it as he dragged along her skin, forcing the dress up and  _up_ and  ** _up_** , his other hand removing his disguise. Her eyes shook, her mouth dried and opening.

"Not a word, little girl," he hissed, his claws treading across her thigh now. He could see the way his claws scratched her, left bumps in their wake. Such a shame, to ruin such perfect flesh.

His tongue dragged across the marks, up her leg, to her thigh, erasing the blemishes he'd created.

She shivered through it, her eyes forced shut and her breathing heavy and scared.

That wouldn't do. "Now, now, little girl, surely you can do more to thank me than just stand there," he drawled. She did not move, she could not move. He would not have it.

His claws came across the fabric of her undergarment, the only thing in his way. Princes were meant to have their way. He had been taught that so clearly, witnessed it so often.

She whimpered, "please don't, please stop." That clear, pretty voice was trembling with her body.

The wolf was fond of this.

"Oops," he sneered, a single claw curving into a "come hither" motion and tearing the fabric. She almost screamed.

His snout was quickly at the fabric, tearing it even further, his claws digging into her hips to hold her still. He could hear a fearful whining, a hopeless whimpering from the bottom of her throat.

"Shut up, slut," he cursed at her, his sharp teeth biting at her inner thighs. She was crying now. " _Pathetic,_ " he growled. His prize was so easily broken.

She cried even harder when he forced her to the bed, biting at her pink flesh. It was delicate but he did not break it, not yet. He wanted her to  _know,_ truly know—without the slightest of doubts—that he owned her before he devoured her. Quickly, he forced entrance into her. Whispering, growling of how she was his, he thrust his hips against hers. She cried harder still at the pain.

He could smell blood against her flesh.

Feeling almost playful, he paused his movement for a moment. "Comfortable, dearie?" He asked, sneering down at her tear-filled eyes and shaking chest. She shook her head, desperately, those small hands pushing at his torso.

Laughing with those sharp teeth, he gave her another moment to try, it was futile but amusing.

She trembled beneath him, pushing and pushing but never strong enough to even begin to move him from on top of her. The tears fell faster, her face reddening with frustration and anger and shame and God knows what else.

Deciding he was done letting her try to defy him—how dare she, a mere peasant, a mere whore, a mere little girl—he resumed his thrusting. She froze for a moment, the tears still clinging to her now puffy eyes. A smirk spread across his face, the little girl was enjoying it.

Against her will, against her reason, her body liked him filling her so quickly and deeply.

Despite the tears in her eyes and the trapped pleas to stop in her throat, her hips twisted and writhed to sink into him deeper. Her hands still pushed at his chest but he  _knew._ She had exposed it to him already, there was no hiding it.

But she did  _not_ want this, she had wanted to be wed to a sincere, charming man—when she was littler still, she had dreamt of a tall prince who would kiss her hand and call her all the things she craved to hear—when this moment came, she had wanted to choose, she had wanted it to be at nightfall with stars illuminating the sky and the moon hanging thinly, she had wanted something else entirely.

She hated, hated, hated how her body betrayed her wishes.

And so she cried even harder and found her voice once more. "Stop," she cried out, begged him.

He slapped her, hard and cruelly. The tears did not cease and her sobs only muffled themselves. He wanted to hear her sing. Why was his toy not singing for him? He growled, feral and angry, his hips slamming harder against hers. She covered her mouth with her hands, her eyes flickering.

"Sing for me," he hissed, his claws digging into her arms, bruising her pretty flesh.

Her voice was cracked and terrified but still she sang for him. He was not pleased. His hand wrapped around her throat, forcing her head down. He slammed into her as hard as he could. He could smell more blood.

" _Sing,_ " he demanded once more, removing his hand from her throat.

She let out a sob first. It was followed by song. Her voice came out clearer, closer to how it had been in the forest.  _Now_ his prey was doing as she was meant to. After all, his people had once been there only to serve him.

His hips bucked against hers with a new relish. Her body twitched, her voice hitching. A small wave of tremors hit her body, he could see it clearly as her eyes shut and her back arched ever so slightly. She was about to cum.

A smirk spread across his mouth at this. She had enjoyed him filling her so much she was going to cum, singing for him. He thrust in once more before her back sprung up into an arch and her eyes rolled back slightly, a breathy scream exiting her lips. It was positively song like.

He was thrilled with this, that, no matter how much she had fought him, she had admitted that she was his toy. Still, he himself was not done with his act. Despite how her body had become almost rag doll-like, he continued to plow into her, whispering to her ear that she was a pathetic slut.

The tears returned.

He finished with her, unloading his cum into her, filling her. She cried much harder at this.

It was small, barely there. But he could've sworn he'd caught her murmur, maybe even sing, "I wish."

"Wishes don't come true," he sneered, his teeth bared. He swallowed the crying girl down, devouring every inch of her plump flesh. She had let out a long, shrill scream. With his belly full and his lust settled, the wolf decided he might tempt yet another meal in. Dressing himself back into dear old granny's clothing, he stretched out.

He fell asleep with the corner of her cloak in his mouth and that was _his_ mistake.

 

 


	2. He Held on Tight and She Almost Screamed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath of her saving grace isn't pretty. / When man sees blood down her leg, he tries not to question it. But when boy sees blood down her leg, he is too ignorant not to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this is late. And I want to clarify that it's only late because I lost the file on my computer because of a virus and it took me ages to find my backup of it (because, brilliant as I am, I didn't name the backup file even though I know I have a hundred unnamed documents).

The Baker sensed something was wrong the moment he slit the wolf's belly open. Firstly, a little girl and her granny came out of it, completely in tact. Secondly, the little girl's eyes were different than before. He could see that they weren't just knowing now, as they had been when she was stealing his sweets. There was some semblance of understanding in them.

It was out of place and not at all what he wanted to see in her eyes. She was still a child, that understanding should not yet be there.

It wasn't until she sang to him of how she understood things now did he think that he had arrived too late to save something.

She gave him the cape and he could swear he saw something red trickling down her leg. But he had a spell to worry about and only two items down so he didn't ask anything of it and told himself it was a trick of the woods. His wife was right, they had to focus on their future, on their baby to be.

He didn't have time to linger on the possible blood down a little girl's leg or the understanding fresh in her eyes.

And so, with as much dignity as he could muster while stuffing a cape as red as blood into his bag, the Baker continued on his way through the woods. He would be a liar if he said that his mind didn't wander once or twice to what the wolf had done to her before devouring her. The ideas sickened him.

* * *

Jack bolted down from the beanstalk, his arms burning from the weight of the gold coins and his mind racing from the adrenaline. He had never had such an adventure before in his life! Oh, what a feeling!

The world was clearer now. The sky was better now. The ground was wistful now.

His mother screeched something at him as he ran by. He didn't stop to listen, didn't even turn to tell her of the good news. He had to find the Baker. The Baker had told him he could buy Milky White back, after all.

High off of pure elation, Jack made his way to the woods, never slowing down. He was going to buy his best friend back, going to make his mother happy later by returning to the kingdom of the giants, he was going to have a happy ever after.

He was sure of it.

At least, if he could just find the Baker, he would be sure of it.

* * *

Some ways into the woods, the boy began to doubt himself. His arms were much too heavy now, his legs much too sore, his lungs thick and slow.

He hadn't seen any hint of the Baker whatsoever.

Jack did, however, see a house. In the woods. "That's just weird," he murmured. But perhaps they would let him rest for a bit—maybe they had seen the Baker.

Lugging the bag over his shoulder, Jack wrapped on the little cottage's door. A sharp voice snapped that she was coming and Jack couldn't help but cringe. The door flung open. A girl around his height stood, in a blue dress with an impatience in her eyes.

"What do you want?" She scowled.

"Oh, uh, I just wanted to know if you'd seen a man—he's a baker—in the woods, maybe with a cow and his wife," he muttered, scratching the back of his head and redirecting his gaze to the floor. There was blood running down her leg.

"No, I haven't seen him since I gave him my cape," she said, her voice quieter.

"What happened to your leg?" It was an innocent question.

She turned silent and glared at the ground, her face red and teary. He didn't understand. Why had his question upset the little girl so much?

"Sorry, I didn't mean to make ya feel bad," he apologized, remembering his mother's scoldings. "I'm Jack, by the way." She didn't take his outstretched hand, she didn't even look up.

"Red," she mumbled, her eyes still shaking.

If he knew as much as she did, he would understand. But he was clueless and the blood to him was the same as the bruises on his limbs—nothing more than an accident from adventuring.

"Mr. Baker went that way," she pointed. She had not moved from the doorway, her legs had not stopped trembling, and her eyes were not done seeing it over again. And then Jack was giving her a swift hug with a cheerful thank you at his lips. Little Red wanted to scream.

She wanted her throat to hurt and her lungs to give out and her retinas to flush away the colors and the lines and his face and for her body to not feel his touch against her flesh and the hungry claws and the growling snout and the shaft filling her in ways she had not wanted. But she didn't scream, she growled and stomped on Jack's foot. She was determined to be stronger than this. She knew things now, she was rid of the cloak that he had ruined even if she could feel warmth she did not want in her body, liquid she hated and blood she wanted to scrub away forever.

Oh, how she wished she had that last night, but granny had needed it more than her, covered in saliva and cuts marring her frail skin.

Her eyes followed Jack as he bolted off, wincing at the throbbing in his foot.

She knew he did not understand. He had not seen the eyes of a predator on his flesh or felt the claws drag up his leg or the teeth rip at his clothes or examined the bite marks left on his inner thighs or been forced to sing like a little bird for him. She cried a little at his innocence and her lack of. Granny held her tight.

* * *

Jack grinned broadly at the Baker, offering up his sack of coins with a newfound strength. The Baker did not return the grin. He couldn't sell the cow, he needed it. He and his wife had wanted a baby for so long and this was their only chance.

Where did Jack even get such things?

"There are giants in the sky!" He exclaimed much to the Baker's disbelief. Jack sang of his adventures, of how he stole and ran and did this all for the cow. Guiltily, the Baker tried to explain that he couldn't sell the cow.

The boy did not understand. He did not see what the Baker meant, he ran off, insistent that he just needed to get more from the giant's kingdom.

It occurred, rather briefly, to the Baker that the little girl would've understood. And then he could see the blood down her leg and the knowing and the understanding in her eyes and he felt bile rise in his throat. He threw up into the bushes, coughing up the empty containments of his stomach. Thoughts of what the wolf had done to her chased his mind as he tried to focus on the gold coins Jack had gifted to him.

"Did you just puke?" The warmest voice he could remember ever hearing laughed. His wife was back. Wait. She should be home right now, with the boy's cow!

"Why are you here?" He asked, rushing to her.

"Is that the cape in your bag?" She changed the subject, eyeing the red fabric.

"Yes, the little girl gave it to me in return for getting her out of a wolf's stomach," he noted, "we've got two of the items."

"One," she corrected.

He could've sworn that he was right, "two, the cow and the cape."

"You've got the cape," she excitedly pointed at it.

"Oh, no, no, no, what did you do with the cow?" He winced at the possibilities.

"She ran away before we even reached home," she admitted.

He'll admit, in hindsight, that he should not have yelled, neither of them should. But they did. They screamed their lungs hoarse and hurting, arguing about the cow.

"ENOUGH! The cow's gone, get it back," the Witch bellowed.

A lot of things were gone, really. They just didn't have the time to spend on all of them.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not quite sure I like how I wrote the rape scene but it'll have to do. More to come soon, I pinky promise.


End file.
